


Alcohol Abuse

by jillyfae



Series: Sweetest of All Sounds [14]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alcohol, Drunk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Romance, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 08:09:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jillyfae/pseuds/jillyfae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unexpectedly potent liquor + Adelaide Hawke + irresistible Starkhaven accent = PWP</p><p>(Original kmeme prompt: "Tequila makes her clothes fall off.")</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Adelaide Hawke paused at the top of the stairs, realizing that for once the Hanged Man's ridiculously dim and dingy lighting was doing her a favor, as no one in the taproom had noticed her yet, but she could clearly see them, and there was Isabela teasing Sebastian horribly, and he was just so impossibly adorable when he blushed and she was a bad, bad, woman but she loved to listen to him talk, and watch him move, and he had such nice muscles hiding under that armor and she was the only one who got to see them, and she could imagine the flex of them as he paced when Isabela tormented him too much, and it couldn't hurt just to watch a little, now could it?

"And what do you think you're doing, Choir Boy?" Isabela was strutting. Isabela was really quite good at strutting, and Hawke was forced to admit she'd been listening a little too closely when Merrill asked her how she did it 'cause she was rather jealously enamoured of the way Isabela always drew everyone's attention whenever she walked through a room.

_I suppose that could just be the lack of pants..._

"Did Varric reschedule the game of Wicked Grace, then?" Sebastian looked a little surprised to be accosted in his normal path to their regularly scheduled game, but Isabela liked surprising people, so he really should have known better than to let her know she'd managed it, but oh, Adelaide loved how he said his "r's" and always had and she'd forgive him the lack of sense if he'd just say Varric's name again. Or reschedule. Or Grace. Why wasn't there an 'r' in her name? Then he'd say it all the time...

Maker's Breath she shouldn't have let Varric pour his latest concoction down her throat while they were waiting but it was such an impossible shade of blue, almost the color of Sebastian's eyes, and he'd called it Sweet Release with such an evil glint in his eyes, which was rather ridiculously funny and completely irresistible, not that she'd ever really tried resisting one of Varric's schemes and Andraste's Flaming Sword she had no idea when she'd last been this drunk. She stuffed a hand in her mouth to muffle the giggle and took one cautious step before her other hand flew to the wall to steady her.

She'd just go back to watching and figure out how to get down the entire flight later, yes? Yes. Good idea, that.

"I didn't ask where you were going, I asked what you thought you were doing," Isabela was stalking more than strutting, actually, pacing around poor Sebastian whose eyebrows were lifting a bit as if he really wasn't sure what was going on, but Adelaide felt herself frowning. Was she going to have to aim some sort of hex at Isabela now, for tormenting her lover? Everyone knew she was a mage, after all, she could absolutely successfully shoot a spell in public and not have to worry about the Templars anymore.

_Thank you, Arishok?_

"You'll have to be more specific, Isabela," Sebastian sighed slightly, but he didn't seem worried, so Adelaide supposed she could hold off on the horrors. For a little bit, anyways. She really did have to figure out how to get down the stairs though, so it would be easier to aim. _Just in case._ She glared down at the floor and managed two falling sorts of steps before she had to grab at the wall again.

"You. Toying with Hawke." _How dare she!_ Adelaide felt her lip lift in a snarl, and was rather glad neither Merrill nor Anders had showed up yet, or they absolutely would have felt the surge of power as she mentally grabbed some mana in preparation for _something drastic_ and finally managed to stumble down the last few steps.

"No one toys with Hawke, and you know it," Sebastian snapped, "and you do her a disservice assuming I could, even if I so desired."

"Oooh, he can bite back," Isabela was practically purring. "There's hope for you yet, Vael, defending her honor before your own." Isabela leaned forward, close enough her hair fell against his shoulder, her voice cold and clear and still audible from Hawke's shaky position across the room. "But if you blow away with the next change in the wind and leave her, I will hunt you down and take your balls as a trophy." She leaned back again with a bright smile. "Just so we understand each other."

"ISABELA!" Adelaide finally found her voice and attempted to stalk across the floor-boards, ignoring the fact that she was pretty sure she wasn't managing anything resembling a straight line. "Back off, right now." _Before I slam you into the floor._

"Hawke!" Isabela's eye's widened in surprise, though Adelaide found she didn't really care what the pirate was thinking, as with a few loud steps Sebastian was suddenly right in front of her, hands warm as he cupped her face, his expression worried as he stared into her eyes.

"Adelaide, are you alright?"

"Perfect," she whispered, her hands moving to rest on his shoulders for some much needed balance as she leaned up to kiss him. He froze in surprise for just an instant, long enough for her to wonder if she'd somehow done something horribly wrong, but then his lips softened against her own, and she swallowed his sigh into her mouth, and nothing else mattered.

Except getting closer, and the blasted neck guard thing, (she'd forgotten what it was called but Fenris had one too she could ask him later), on Sebastian's armor was absolutely in the way, especially at this angle, so she slipped her hands behind his neck and jumped, wrapping her legs around his waist as he grunted in surprise, but his arms were nicely co-operative, wrapping around her back and under her thighs and holding her close so they didn't fall over, though she did feel him stagger for just a moment before he got his balance back, and she was very proud of both of them, though especially him, that she hadn't had to stop kissing him at _all_.

"Well that certainly puts me in my place," Isabela chuckled somewhere in the background and Adelaide attempted to ignore her to encourage her to shut up, but of course she didn't, 'cause Isabela never did anything Isabela didn't want to do, and she obviously loved the sound of her own voice this particular night. "And not that I'm not enjoying the show tremendously, but you don't normally like putting them on for us."

"The two of you don't usually even hold hands where you might be seen," Fenris muttered in soft agreement.

Adelaide growled softly in annoyance as Sebastian pulled away, his breath heavy as he rested his forehead against hers. "Yes, love, perhaps they have a point..."

 _Screw you and your points_ , Hawke felt rather like pouting, but acting was always a better plan, so instead she tightened her legs enough to force a gasp out of Sebastian's throat, at which point she took shameless advantage of him and shoved her tongue in his mouth.

"Oh, bravo, Hawke," Isabela was _still_ talking, and was that Merrill's voice over by the doorway going 'oh' in that surprised tone of voice that no one else could manage?

Adelaide was pretty sure she'd be mortified tomorrow what with all the grabbing and kissing in public but at the moment she didn't really care because he was _hers_ and no one else had any right at all to interfere and his fingers were clenching her thigh just under her arse and his tongue was really remarkably good at, well, everything, and _Oh Maker that feels good_ and she heard herself moan in wordless encouragement as his teeth were scraping along her jaw and his mouth was hot on her throat and they really, really were not going to be playing Wicked Grace tonight if she had anything to do with it.

"CORFF!" And now Varric was shouting at the bartender. Something about a room on his tab. Why would he need a room? He already had the only decent suite in the place. Why would no one shut up and leave her be?

Some slightly sober part of her brain attempted to suggest that perhaps if she wanted to be alone with Sebastian she should try actually being _alone_ rather than jumping him in the middle of the Hanged Man, but it was drowned out by the rest of her brain which was busy humming with pleasure and refusing to consider any attempts to do something not Sebastian-related.

Not that she was trying very hard.

_Hard._

She giggled softly, head falling back a bit further, which got her a very lovely nip right at the edge of her collarbone where it edged its way out from under her leathers.

"Vael," Varric's voice was suddenly down past her elbow, unusually serious, and Sebastian's mouth left her neck, and she actually did pout this time, tipping her head forward again and attempting to nuzzle at his neck around the hood of his mail. "I figured she'd be a little annoyed with us tomorrow if she, uh, gets much further than she has already, so I got you a room upstairs. One that actually got cleaned yesterday. Or the day before. Ish. Second door on the right."

"Varric," Sebastian sounded rather breathless, and she wasn't completely sure if he sounded annoyed or hopeful or something else altogether and maybe she'd care later but now she just really wanted his mouth back, "what did you _do?_ "

"Just suggested some dwarven liquor, that, um, is maybe a bit more... effective on humans than I thought it was."

And she felt Sebastian shake his head, but they were moving towards the stairs now, so she didn't really pay attention to Isabela's delighted cackle floating behind them. "She was just supposed to get a little handsy with the Choir Boy so you could watch him blush, wasn't she? She's going to kill you tomorrow dwarf, you know that?"

"I'm rather hoping Vael wears her out enough that she's too happy to torture me and makes it quick, at this point," Varric grunted in agreement.

"She wouldn't really kill you would she?" _Yep, that's Merrill._

"He'll die in a terrifying cloud of nightmares."

"Very funny, elf," Varric snorted, and they'd had to slow down to get up the stairs past that obnoxious talkative fellow who was somehow always in the way, so she could still hear them, not that she really wanted to, as Sebastian's neck tasted marvelous and the slightest quiver in his arms around her was making her entire body shiver.

"I aim to please." _Was Fenris laughing? He never laughed. Hid that sense of humor down tight, he did._

"I wouldn't arrest her if she did." _And Aveline! Sounding all grim. When did she get here?_ "Perfectly justifiable."

"Now, let's just wait and see if she's really that upset tomorrow." Donnic was definitely laughing, which was much more normal, but by then they were upstairs and she couldn't really hear anything anymore and there were through a doorway and was Sebastian trying to unwrap her hands from behind his neck?

She whimpered slightly, clenching everything tighter, nipping at his neck as if to pull herself closer by her teeth, if necessary, and he groaned, the sound bypassing her ears and vibrating right through her core, until his hot breath was whispering against her ear, his accent so thick it took a moment for her to decipher the actual words, "please, Adelaide, I can't get our armor off if you don't let me put you down."

"Ohh," she breathed out softly, everything going limp until her feet touched the floor because she really liked his skin almost as much as his tongue and then she was blinking down in surprise at the floor as her toes flexed against the dusty wood and when had she taken off her boots? And her stockings?

Feeling rather wobbly now that she was attempting to stand on her own, she realized she didn't have her staff or her gauntlets either, and that just wasn't normal and had she left them at Varric's? Or somewhere in the taproom, or...

A clank in front of her caused her to blink as she realized there was a piece of white shiny chestplate thing (and really she was sure she knew the names of things this morning, but worrying about that was much less important than making sure they got it all off) next to the closed door and she looked up with a grin because she was definitely going to be helping with this, and she took two determined steps forward before her hands were sliding carefully along straps and buckles, and she'd worry about what she did with her own armor later, since it wasn't bloody likely anyone in the Hanged Man would attempt to _borrow_ from The Champion and she had much more important things to do.

Like close her eyes and forget what she was doing because there were teeth nibbling along her ear and a delicious accented purr making her toes curl. "No need to be in such a hurry, love, we have plenty of time."

She grunted in wordless disagreement once she sort-of convinced her brain to work again, hands still reaching around to find a way under all that chainmail, to feel the heat of his skin against her finger tips, but he kept getting in her way and then he was holding both of her hands right under his mouth, kissing them, and she was practically panting with frustration because they were actually alone now and he wasn't naked yet and she didn't think she'd survive another five minutes of this, this _teasing_.

Then he chuckled, soft and dark, and her thighs clenched together in a vague approximation of decent friction and really it was unfair what the man could do to her with just his _voice_. "Or hurry it is then."


	2. Chapter 2

And she was swept up in his arms, and moving, then falling with a slight bounce on a straw tick that didn't smell like it had been aired out at all recently, but then his lovely strong hands were at her waist and her leathers were being peeled down past her thighs and she was lifting her hips and legs to try and help but it was amazingly difficult as she was pretty sure she'd forgotten how to breathe so it wasn't like the musty smell mattered in the slightest and then there was air cool against her knees and a slight tug as her smalls _when did he grab those too?_ got caught on her heel and she tried not to kick him in the face as she twitched her foot to get it all off and she was attempting to sit up so she could reach for him. Or maybe get her own buckles down her side so her leathers could be _gone? A_ nd she hadn't really decided which yet and she'd barely made it up on her elbows and

"Oh Maker!"

Adelaide fell back with a thud, back arching, as his tongue thrust into her again, then again, and she could feel all of his fingers as lines of heat across her thighs as he held her wide open, his tongue licking her walls, thrusting deep again before sliding back to her opening and tracing the edges of her folds, easing upward slightly, and she'd apparently remembered how to breathe at some point as she felt her breath catch again as he paused, fingers flexing and head lifting just a bit. "Like that do you?"

And she keened in the back of her throat as she felt the puff of air, the vibration of his words hum against the small knot of flesh, her aching pearl, almost enough to feel good but not quite and she lifted her hips, pushing herself towards him. "Please, yes," she whispered.

"So polite, my lady, how can I resist?" And the slightest flick of his tongue, _right there_ , then again and again and again, light and teasing, just the way she liked it, and his hand slid off her thigh, the moan was building down low in her chest before slowly making its way out her mouth as her entire body stretched with delight beneath him when one finger pushed inside her, slow and steady to contrast with his still dancing tongue.

Then another, his fingers twisting and turning inside her, achingly gloriously wonderfully slow as they rubbed against her, and her hips were rocking now, pushing her against his hand and his mouth, up, then down, over and over, her hands clenched into fists, the spread tangled between them the only reason her ragged nails weren't cutting her palms.

His fingers, his tongue, his _voice_ as he'd pause and whisper to her, so soft she could feel the thrum against her skin as much as she could hear him, everything feeling better and better, heat and pressure and joy building and tightening and coiling and _waiting_ for just the right moment...

"So lovely," _lick_ , "soft," _lick_ , "warm," _lick_ , "sweet," _lick_ , "mine," _lick_ , "all mine," _lick_ , "only mine." And he closed his mouth down around her, pushing with his hand at the same time, sucking gently as she arched up into him, heels tight against the bed, pleasure wailing out her throat as every muscle in her body tightened around his fingers, eyes blind though they were still wide open, shuddering helplessly as he gentled his motions, easing her back into her body, sprawled limp and boneless across the wrinkled sheet.

"Uh," she managed as she felt one soft kiss upon her inner thigh, and then leather was tugging at her sides, and she felt like purring as hands were sliding smoothly across her skin, and she managed to convince her body to rock slightly to one side, then the other, so the last of her clothes could be eased off. Her breasts were always so happy with her when they were finally free of breast-band and shirt and leather, and had been even when that just meant it was easier to breathe and not that they were about to feel calloused palms or a warm wet mouth or occasionally the sharp bite of teeth, but he'd gotten her naked and none of those things were happening at all and she forced herself to open her eyes and tilt her head and there he was, those wonderful eyes, _I will never get enough of those eyes_ , smiling down at her like she was the last of Orana's famous cinnamon treats, like water in the desert, the first breath of air after fleeing the Deep Roads.

"And why are you... and still?" She was surprised she'd managed something so close to a full sentence, as the room was rocking rather pleasantly, much as she'd imagined life on a boat ought to feel, but not really anything like the trip to Kirkwall in the hold of that nasty ship they'd scrambled onto out of Gwaren and she widened her eyes at him, hoping he'd figure out what she meant about him being much too far away, standing next to the bed. He still had his mail on for Maker's sake, that just wasn't _right_.

"Mmm," he hummed, as if her eyes struck him wordless, which was silly, she just had normal brown eyes and his were _magic_ , then his smile widened as his knees dented the bed, his arms surrounding her shoulders as he leaned forward, and this was important enough she argued strenuously with her body until she convinced her arms to pretend they still had bones and muscles and could move and she managed to wrap her fingers in his hair and she could still taste herself in his mouth when she kissed him, which she always loved, liked she'd claimed him twice, _mine and mine and mine again_ , or maybe he was claiming her twice, which was just as good, and she moaned her approval against his lips and swept her tongue through his mouth as thoroughly as she could manage -

and whimpered as he suddenly pulled away, the bed creaking as his weight disappeared and she opened her eyes to scowl at him until she heard the whisper of leather rubbing and swallowed as he oh so slowly started easing out of his own clothes, starting with buckles and belt and it was torture but really nice torture and she licked her lips as finally the hints of skin grew larger, until she had a glorious expanse of naked chest and shoulders and her fingers itched to touch and then he was bending over and his trousers were sliding down past his hip bones and

 _I love your cock_.

"Trust me, he loves you too," Sebastian responded, and she realized she'd actually said that out loud and she felt the blush rising up her chest and across her face, and he chuckled again at the sight, one hand smoothing across her hot skin.

He'd pulled himself back up on the bed, laying next to her but not touching beyond that one hand resting at the base of her throat, her pulse jumping under his fingers, and she wanted more than anything to roll over and touch, to wrap her hands around his hard length and stroke, but she was transfixed by the voice in her ear, the hot whispers holding her in place so all she could do was listen.

"I particularly love your tongue licking right at my tip, and how very hot and wet you are when you plunge your mouth around me, your throat tight as you swallow my seed," and she groaned as her mind filled with memories of his taste, of the delicious burn down the back of her throat as she took him all the way in, heavy against her tongue, "or the feel of your knees tight beside my hips when you ride me, as I thrust up into you as hard as I can, over and over until you scream my name, your walls clenching around every inch of me."

She felt the shiver all the way through her body as she almost came again, just from the sound of him, and she started to turn on her side, to reach over, but his hand slid over to her shoulder and pushed her back, gently.

"But I think tonight will be different," as he continued pushing, still gentle, until he'd turned her completely over, helping her shift until her head was pillowed on her arms, "I think tonight you should let me do all the work." She could feel the heat of his chest against her back as he spoke, and she shivered again, her muscles trying to clench around the empty space between her legs. "Let me worship you, love."

He bit her shoulder, hard, and she gasped, flexing hard down into the mattress, then bucking back up again, giving him room to slide a pillow _when did he get that?_ low under her stomach, keeping her hips raised slightly up above the bed.

His tongue was soft, soothing the spot he'd bit, kissing it gently as she relaxed again. "Such a lovely sight you are," his mouth, hot and soft and wet and firm all at once, "a feast, laid out before me," tasting her all the way down her spine, "mine to savor, whenever I want," hands stroking softly down her back, "whenever you want," fingers kneading just enough, "whatever you want," until she felt hazy and half asleep and all thoughts had fled beyond the growing _ache_ to be full. Full of him. "Anything you desire, love."

"You," she managed a husky whisper, eyes closed as her whole body flushed, warm and pliant under his touch. "I desire you."

And then words failed them both, twin groans blending together as he pushed his way inside her, slow and steady, hard and hot and full. She stretched her legs, lifting her hips, her muscles tight as she tried to pull him in harder, faster, but he resisted, taking his time, easing gradually deeper until he was settled as far as he could go, his body hot and heavy, covering her completely, his chest pushing against her back. She was trapped by his weight, his scent, his need as desperate as her own.

"Silk and fire," his whisper was ragged, his breathing rough as he shifted his hips, rocking and twisting slightly. The angle was perfect, every slight movement rubbing him against that spot inside her, the one that made her limbs tremble and her body flush, her moans catching in her throat.

"You are perfection, my love," he nipped at her shoulder, her neck, her ear, teeth quick and sharp, "hot and tight," his mouth returned, again, soothing and suckling with lips and tongue,"delicious and irresistible."

"Maker, Sebastian," she murmured, pinned so thoroughly she couldn't move, breath heavy in her chest, nipples hot and tight against the bed, shocks of pleasure feathering through her entire body with every shift, every word, "don't, ever, stop, talking."

And he didn't, whispering praise in his ear as he moved inside her, his words getting shorter as his breathing got heavier, spots dancing in front of her eyes as she tried desperately to hold on, to listen to just one more word, to feel one more thrust, his hands resting on top of hers, fingers tangling as they gripped tight, tighter, until her entire body shattered, light and heat and lust and joy and _Maker, yes!_ , his shout twining through her heart and soul and her mind collapsed with one last shudder.


	3. Chapter 3

She really was purring. Just like one of those kittens Merrill and Anders kept trying to rescue in Darktown. It was silly, but she couldn't seem to stop, and Sebastian didn't seem to mind, as his hand kept stroking softly up and down her arm. She tilted her head just enough to nuzzle his chest with her nose, before settling against his shoulder again.

A soft chuckle above her head slid into an even softer whisper. "Here I thought I'd tired you out."

"Hmm," she managed a soft hum. "Did."

"And yet you're still awake?"

"Can' sleep. Tin-ly."

His laugh was slightly louder this time. "Oh, you are delightful. I must make you start drinking twice as much wine at dinner so you're tingly more often."

"Wine don.. does.. not tingly." She huffed out one long breath, realizing she was starting to wake up enough to sort-of figure out how to talk again. "You jus' wanna take 'vantage of me when I'm drunk."

"Ah, you have that backwards, woman." His voice was rough with amusement. "You take advantage of me when you're drunk."

"Uh," Adelaide suddenly remembered how she'd lost her boots, toeing them off _after_ she'd wrapped her legs around Sebastian's waist, tightening her thighs against him pretty much... everywhere. In the middle of the taproom. In front of everyone. "Oh, Maker, I did, didn't I?"

"Shh, love," he interrupted her attempt to hide her face in his shoulder, heat rising across her cheeks. "I wasn't distressed in the slightest." He dropped one feather-light kiss to her temple. "Though you might want to try to reign it in, just a little, next time. So I can prepare our own bed _properly_."

"Oh?" She felt a purr building up in her chest again as he cupped her breast, his thumbnail gently circling her nipple, her mind pleasantly occupied with recollections of some of his previous _preparations_ , involving silk ropes or blindfolds or oil or hot wax or one very memorable trip up on the roof of the Estate, held tight in his arms under the stars, so it took her a moment to realize what else he'd said. "Next time?"

He made a very agreeable sort of grunt deep in his throat. "Perhaps I do like taking advantage of you as well."

"Thought so," she gasped as the flat of his tongue lapped across her other previously neglected nipple. "One of the many things I love about you."

"Say that again," he ordered, before his mouth moved up to her collarbone.

"Love you," she tilted her head back, displaying the line of her neck for him.

He followed the path she'd given him, up and up until teeth pulled at her earlobe. "Again."

"Love you," she whispered, as he pushed her onto her back, rising above her.

"Louder." He shoved his thigh between her legs, hard and fast, and she cocked her hips, grinding against him, but she clamped her lips shut tight, swallowing the urge to answer.

"Louder, love," he growled, "or I'll make you scream."

"Just try," she mouthed, barely enough air passing her lips to make any sound at all, heat building in anticipation of her imminent defeat. They both knew she'd scream; he always made her scream.

But first he teased.

His mouth claimed hers, lips hot and firm, kissing her thoroughly, endlessly, hands busy with her breasts, cupping and caressing, tracing her nipples, swallowing her silent gasps each time he pinched or twisted, til they were so stiff and tight it hurt, a delicious throb at every little touch.

At her first wince, when it was almost too much, he slid his hands down her sides, thumbs settling in the crease of her thighs, stroking back and forth, making her writhe beneath him, sensitive breasts rubbing against his chest, hands tangled in his hair, pulling tight enough to hurt as she held his mouth to hers, bucking her hips, shoving her entire body up against his weight.

Then he yanked himself away, so suddenly she felt hair catch in her fingers, and almost lost her battle, almost conceded the game early, almost gasped and begged to have him back.

_Almost._

He grabbed her legs, throwing them over his shoulders, his voice a wicked promise, "one last chance, Adelaide."

She shook her head, still mute, and he answered her silence with one firm thrust, shoving himself between her legs, shoving himself inside her as far as he could go. So far inside it hurt, one flash of pain before it crossed the line into pleasure, sharp and merciless, stabbing deeper and deeper. "This," he hissed as he pulled himself back, "this," he shoved all the way in, hips slamming against her, hard, over and over, his husky whisper rough velvet against her skin.

"The very first time I saw you, walking into the Chantry, I wanted _this_ , to throw you down and take, make you mine, forget every oath I swore, everything else that had ever happened to me," he was panting in time to his thrusts, and she was biting her lip so hard she could taste blood, no longer able to stop the slight whimper as her body shook beneath him, "to make you cry for mercy that I would never, ever give you." He pulled all the way out, pausing as her mouth fell open, as she panted for air. "Scream for me, Adelaide."

And she did.

He buried himself inside her one last time, filling her, full, overflowing, clawing desperately at his arms, shoved roughly, ruthlessly over the edge, calling out his name as she fell. _"Sebastian!"_


	4. Chapter 4

"Varric!" Isabela leaned in past his doorway, at precisely the right angle to make it look like her breasts might, just this once, fall out of her bodice. They both knew they wouldn't, but she did enjoy the tease, and who was he to disappoint her?

"Rivaini." Varric made sure he paused long enough to enjoy the view before looking up at her face. "What does my favorite pirate want now?"

"Just pleasantly surprised you were still in the land of the living, my dear." She sauntered in a few steps before perching on the back of one of his chairs, long legs stretched, just the tip of her boot against the floor for balance. "How'd you manage to avoid Hawke and her murderous fury this morning?"

"She hasn't left the room yet."

He'd apparently managed to startle her speechless, which was always fun, before her rich laughter filled through the room. "Oh. _Oh, my._ I might have to steal a bottle of that liquor of yours myself, just to see what happens."

"Can't." Varric spread his hands wide to signify his regret, "Choir Boy snuck out long enough to get her some breakfast, some of Blondie's favorite hangover cure. Stopped by here. Bought the case off me. So I couldn't inflict it on any other poor unsuspecting human." He sighed, shoulders shrugging with the depths of his dismay. "You shoulda heard him, all raspy, like she'd kept him up _talking_ for hours."

"The poor man," Isabela grinned back. "She probably did."

"I'm sure he was complaining strenuously the entire time."

"Well, she'd like that too."

Varric chuckled in appreciative agreement. "Course, I have another case due next week. Didn't tell him that."

"Oh really?" Isabela slid gracefully down the back of the chair, landing in the seat with a very soft _thump_. "And what mischief are you plotting with that one?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Course I would. I adore your mischief. Plus, if I help, I'm sure you'd feel obliged to give me a bottle or two. As payment."

"Let's talk terms, then, Rivaini." He leaned back contentedly into his own chair. "I'm sure we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement."


End file.
